100% That Witch - Celia Kyle Page 0,33

really was.

Slipping into a daze, she barely heard the words that spilled out of him so easily. From time to time, she nodded mutely, as if it were expected, not because she agreed. Suddenly, she had no idea what to do with her hands. Reaching for her mug felt like an impossible task, so they lay limply on her lap. Heavy. Awkward, as if they had swollen to five times their usual size.

“Any guy would be lucky to have a girl like you…”

Then why not you?

“It all just comes down to me. I’m not sure I’m in a spot for anything serious, and I wouldn’t want to make things difficult for you by stringing this out. In the end, I just don’t think I’m the guy for a girl as good as you.”

Are you serious? The old “it’s not you, it’s me” thing? On any other day, that hackneyed argument would have sent her surging out of her seat, ready to show the world it wasn’t all puppies and posies with her.

Instead, she just sat there, looking into the face she had expected to be kissing by now. It belonged to a stranger.

“Bottom line is that I just don’t feel the kind of connection I think you’re after.” He looked as if he was genuinely remorseful over it. “I’m sorry if I’ve misled you in any way, but the fact is, I’m not good at this kind of thing. Plus, I didn’t want to let you down.”

They sat in silence for a moment. A sickly sensation slicked into the back of her throat as Tiffany spiraled down into herself. It wasn’t that Rhys had let her down. She had built up her hopes too high. As much as she didn’t want to believe what he was saying, a growing echo inside her told her how true it all was.

What was I thinking? How could I really expect someone like Rhys Rhonelle to look twice at a weak, lousy little thing like me?

In that moment, she felt twelve again. That aching chasm of rejection splitting open inside her and swallowing anything she might have dared to like about herself. Suddenly, the pink blouse felt like a cheap charade. From that moment on, she would double down on black. But not to impress anyone. No, she was going to make herself vanish.

“Tiffany?” Only when she looked into Rhys’s face again did she realize he must have stopped talking a while ago. “Are you okay?”

“Mmmhmm,” she nodded, forcing a tight smile across her face. “It’s fine. I understand.” With a sudden unconvincing laugh, she swiped a hand loosely over her coffee. “No problem.”

“I hope we can still be friends?” That was the most crushing thing he could have said. Whether or not it was meant to be kind, he might as well have slapped her in the face. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and she reached for her coffee mug with a trembling hand to hide her discomfort.

“Mmmhmm.” By the time the cup reached her lips, it was shaking so much, she was in grave danger of spilling some down the front of Aurora’s blouse. Not that it mattered. Disappointing people was her thing, apparently.

Rhys sat uneasily for a second and even looked as if he might speak again, but each time he opened his mouth, it closed again without incident.

This is all on you, Tiffany. This hurt you’re feeling right now? It’s all because you’re not good enough. There’s no world in which you deserve someone like him.

“That’s not true!” A new, yet familiar, voice shouted inside her, stilling the thrashing she was giving herself. The new voice was warm, soft, and gentle. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

It sounded a lot like Nero.

“Well,” Rhys said at last, clapping his hands lightly on his knees. “I, um, should probably go.”

The best Tiffany could do was nod, and he answered it with a single tight nod of his own. Leaving his stupid fucking paper cup on the table, Rhys rose to his full height and ducked out of the shop and into the night.

“You’re perfect just the way you are,” the new voice said again.

Only she didn’t feel perfect. Not in the slightest.

Sitting in that chair, folding into herself, Tiffany felt impossibly small and thoroughly imperfect. Rhys’s cup mocked her from across the table, making her feel even more alone now that he was gone.

And then the eyes found her again. Without looking, she felt the stolen glances and outright